


What If

by Elfflame



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-12
Updated: 2007-12-12
Packaged: 2017-10-19 05:36:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/197494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elfflame/pseuds/Elfflame
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Facecat: H/D</p>
            </blockquote>





	What If

**Author's Note:**

  * For [facecat](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=facecat).



Things had been wrong in Draco’s world for a year and a half, so why was it that he still managed to be surprised when things got worse? Sure, Potter and his friends had been captured by one of the groups of Death Eaters when one of them had spoken _His_ name, but then things had really gotten bad. He’d tried to avoid revealing Harry’s identity, but it hadn’t helped much, and he’d had to watch his aunt gleefully torture Granger. He’d never liked the girl, but watching someone being tortured was definitely not a favorite pastime, either.

When Potter and his friends managed to escape, Potter had snatched the wands from Draco’s hands. Draco had grabbed back, not caring so much about his aunt’s wand as his own. He felt naked without it.

His stomach had twisted as they Apparated away unexpectedly, and he found himself gasping on the ground, generally in one piece. Weasley had apparently gotten his energy back much quicker, as he felt a sharp blow to his ribs, and curled up in a ball as the other boy shouted at him.

He didn’t want to be here. He wanted to go home. Now. But if he came back without Potter and his friend or without the wands…

He looked up, watching Potter bury the house elf that had helped him escape. He couldn’t help wondering why he cared, but the wand Harry used to carve the headstone distracted him from that thought. “That’s mine!”

Cold green eyes turned on him. “Not any more, Malfoy. Mine was snapped, so I guess yours will have to do.”

In all the seven years he’d known Harry Potter, he’d never seen him so cold before. He swallowed. “And where am I supposed to go?”

Potter stared at him a long time before answering. “Consider yourself a prisoner of war.” He pointed his wand—Draco’s own—at him, then waved him towards the tiny house they’d appeared in front of.

There just weren’t enough rooms for all of them, and Harry made the executive decision that Draco would sleep in his room. Draco wasn’t particularly happy about that. Still, he was surprised how easily he got used to it. And really, for a “prisoner,” he wasn’t badly treated. Just…closely watched. He wasn’t allowed near their little meetings, either, but he convinced himself that he really didn’t want to be involved in all that, anyway.

It wasn’t until the day before they left that he realized he was happier here than he had been at the Manor. Oh, he missed his parents; worried how they were being treated. But the pressure was off. He could relax. But Harry—for he had become Harry somewhere along the line, though Draco wasn’t sure when—still had a long way to go.

That night, he turned on his side to look at Harry’s still form in the window.

“Are you going to sleep?”

“Can’t. What does it matter to you, anyway?”

“You have a lot to do, and…”

“And what do you care, anyway, Malfoy?” Harry snarled, turning to glare at him.

“I care! He has my family. Or hadn’t you noticed that we were prisoners there just as you were?” He’d forgotten this animosity had existed between them. Harry’d avoided him except when absolutely necessary, mostly at meals and bedtimes. But Draco had watched him. He’d seen him with his friends, more relaxed than he’d ever seen the other boy before.

“Right. Too bad you got yourself into that, then,” Harry snapped, turning away again.

“Look, Potter,” Draco growled. “I just…” He sighed, looking away. It didn’t matter. Whatever he said, Harry would take it wrong. “Never mind. Forget I said anything.” He turned away from Harry and closed his eyes. He likely wouldn’t get any sleep, but he was good at pretending. After all, he’d done it all his life, hadn’t he?

“Like it isn’t your fondest wish come true if I die,” Harry muttered.

Draco turned to look at him, stricken. The sharp spike of pain through him at Harry’s words… “It isn’t. I never wanted that, Harry…” He felt butterflies in his stomach as he said the other boy’s name.

Harry turned to look at him, quite obviously surprised. “No? Then what?”

“I just wanted to be your friend…” he said softly.

The surprise in Harry’s face became astonishment. “Well, I suppose it’s a bit too late for that now…” He turned away, but Draco sat up.

“It’s not. I know…we were on opposite sides, but…”

“I’m not letting you come with us, Malfoy.”

“And I’m not asking it! I don’t want to! Personally, I think you’re all bloody mad. But I do hope…after all this is over…Maybe then?”

After a long pause, Harry nodded. “Maybe,” he said softly. “Might even be nice…”

Draco didn’t take his eyes off him that night. But sometime between midnight and dawn, he must have fallen asleep, for when he woke, Harry and his friends were gone.


End file.
